


Space Cowboy

by RaeNonnyNonny



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fancy Dress Party, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, nineties nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeNonnyNonny/pseuds/RaeNonnyNonny
Summary: Ilsa's holding a fancy dress party (I think you say costume party in the US?) and Robin is invited.Sort of a follow up to Companions: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738605Inspired heavily by the TV series - my entry point to this whole fandom.Definitely post-Career of Evil, almost certainly post-Troubled Blood.  Possibly sweary, because Cormoran (spoilers!).Unexpected TV crossovers incoming.
Relationships: Ilsa Herbert & Cormoran Strike, Ilsa Herbert/Nick Herbert, Nick Herbert & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 41
Kudos: 46





	1. In which Robin is a bit predictable

Robin pushed open the door of the bright, crowded London pub and scanned with her eyes for a clue as to where the party might be. She saw Ilsa waving at her from the busy bar and smiled, heading towards her. It was her party, ostensibly to celebrate her promotion to senior partner, but she knew Nick had suggested it with the latest miscarriage in mind. Each one was hitting her a little harder, though she wouldn’t have admitted it. Robin was silently pleased to see their friend looking relaxed and happy this evening rather than pale and listless.

“You made it!” said Ilsa, kissing her on the cheek. “We’re just down the corridor, I booked a private room at the back but we have to come to the bar. White wine?”

“Please” said Robin, gratefully. “I’ve been on a stakeout all day in a cafe and I need something to take away the taste of their terrible tea!” She grimaced.

Ilsa smiled. “Downside of the job I suppose. Anyway you’re here now. I love the outfit!”

The party was fancy dress, specifically guests had to dress as a character from film or TV.  Robin, who had wanted to try a shorter haircut for a while, had seen her opportunity, and was sporting a new shoulder-length bob of her natural hair and had dug out the black blazer, white blouse and smart trousers of her first undercover character, when she posed as personal injury lawyer Venetia Hall in Barrow. This time, however, she had a large rectangular badge pinned to her front with ‘FBI’ on it in large block capitals, and even more distinctively, had a small inflatable alien taped to her back.

“Thanks. I know it’s a bit low effort but it made sense I thought.”

Curiously, Robin noticed Ilsa stifle a slight laugh as something occurred to her but said nothing as she tapped her contactless card on the machine and nodded at the barmaid who handed her their drinks.

“What?!” enquired Robin, slightly self-consciously. “There aren’t that many redheads on TV you know, and I wasn’t going to come as Jessica Rabbit.” Ilsa guffawed openly now.

“No it’s great Robin, I just think it’s funny you’ve come as a detective. With a famous partner.” Giggles erupted out of Ilsa as Robin rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah. Come on; I want to hear all about your latest case...”


	2. In which Cormoran buys a drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go... the plot thickens. Mwahahaha

Cormoran emerged from the gents, a door off the long narrow hallway from the bar, just in time to glimpse a flash of red-blonde hair disappearing into the room where the party was taking place. It was a head of hair he would know anywhere. He was sure Dulux should have, by rights, named the shade after his business partner by now. He had only caught it in the corner of his eye but he thought something seemed different about it… Well it was a fancy dress party, so he supposed it wasn’t unreasonable to assume she had probably changed something about her appearance.

He headed to the bar and ordered himself another pint, then nodded at Nick who was himself coming back from the toilet when Strike reached the corridor again.  
“Robin’s here”, Nick said, unnecessarily pointedly, Strike thought. He grunted and held the door for his friend to walk through before him, then entered himself.

Strike had ill advisedly taken a mouthful of Doom Bar the moment he was free of the door. Scanning the room casually for his partner, who was standing next to Ilsa and her flatmate Max, he ended up spluttering as he realised who she had come dressed as. He froze, stunned, and stared at her.

“Quite the detective pinup eh Oggy?” Nick muttered in a low voice towards Strike.  
He thumped him on the back gleefully and winked at his dumbfounded friend as he regained control over his breathing.

Strike glared at Nick.


	3. In which Robin spots Cormoran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cormoran's costume is revealed

Ilsa left Robin to do the rounds greeting the other attendees, and Robin remained standing beside Max, who, appropriately for an actor, had fully committed to the challenge and was relishing in the Elizabethan splendour of Shakespeare from Shakespeare in Love, with a large ruff, dark eyeliner and a single pearl drop earring. He was comparing the virtues of the various comedies of the Bard with Vanessa, who had loved English Lit at school and was an avowed fan of Much Ado About Nothing, while Max preferred the magical antics of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

Robin was really orbiting the conversation. She was tired from the week on surveillance, and glanced idly around the room to see who else had turned up.

Her gaze reached Strike and Nick just in time for the gastroenterologist, this evening imitating Patch Adams with a traditional white doctor’s coat and a clown nose, to give her partner a distinct shove in her direction and Strike’s scowl deepened. He was facing her, but focussed on the floor vaguely near her feet. She took him in quizzically. He was still in his usual heavy coat with a blue shirt underneath and he didn’t appear to be in fancy dress. Had he forgotten? She assumed he probably wasn’t keen on fancy dress but she would have thought he would make at least a token effort given the circumstances and his closeness to the host.

Nick tapped him on the shoulder and looked reprovingly at him. She saw them exchange words, and then, even ten metres away visibly sighing, Strike pulled a hat out of one of his large coat pockets, plonking it on his head reluctantly. Nick nodded and passed him a long multicoloured striped scarf from the coat stand they were standing beside. Was he leaving? Robin was deflated for a moment, but before she could call over to him, Strike glumly wrapped the scarf around his neck, and finally met Robin’s gaze. 

Realisation dawned on Robin’s face and she laughed, her torso tilted back and shaking slightly. She smiled broadly at them and waved.

Nick clocked her watching and grinned back smugly, while the effect on Strike was to pull his scowl into a reluctant, slightly self-conscious crooked smile, shrugging shyly at her. Despite Strike’s age, the expression reminded Robin of a blushing teenage boy waiting to greet his prom date. It was strangely adorable.


	4. In which the Doctor meets Dana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, banter incoming

Fancy dress requirement now fulfilled, and following some light ribbing about Arsenal which Strike had resigned himself to, Nick left him for the bar and his attention turned to food. 

The pub had arranged a modest array of nibbles and finger food on a table to the right of the door. Still mentally composing himself after the sight of Robin dressed as a young Dana Scully, Strike extracted a few slices of pizza and a small pile of onion bhajis, loaded them onto a paper plate then licked his fingers. 

Over some speakers, he could hear Jamiroquai croon away to nobody in particular ‘this is the return of the space cowboy’.

Strike was just demolishing his second bhaji when he saw Robin approaching. He coughed and tried to swallow his mouthful rather gracelessly, but just about managed by the time she had ducked through milling party guests and placed her wine glass beside his Doom Bar on the far end of the buffet table.

“They’re playing our song” he said, pointing into the air as it reached the chorus. _Why had he said that? Our song? Because it’s about space? She wasn’t a cowboy. Pathetic bloody idiot._

But Robin just grinned and tugged the end of his scarf gently. “I see Nick has been busy.”

The Tom Baker scarf was clearly hand-knitted, albeit neatly finished. Strike strongly suspected Dr Herbert’s sudden interest in wool-based stress relief was a reference not only to his resemblance to Tom Baker’s Fourth Doctor but also a bit of banter at one curry night after wrapping up the Chiswell case. He found himself wondering if Ilsa had ever suggested Robin dress up as Amy Pond but firmly told his imagination to stop it before he went anywhere near that prospect.

“So Doctor, what have you been up to recently? Saving humanity been keeping you busy?”

“Something like that. I’m on the lookout for a companion if you know anyone with good detective skills. Must be OK with extra-terrestrials.” His eyes crinkled teasingly at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Funny. Whereas I’ve been told to watch out for a Smoking Man.” Robin deadpanned.

Strike grinned broadly. “Nice reference. Were you ever into...?”

“No”, Robin shook her head. “But it was on when I was at school so I picked up a few basics. Plus there aren’t many people with hair like mine on television.” She smiled ruefully, patting her bob self-consciously.

 _Shame_ , Strike thought, and firmly bit his tongue. He was very relieved when she went back to sipping her wine and watching the party, and didn’t return the question about being into the X-Files. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to be that honest.


	5. In which Nick enjoys winding up his friend

A little while later, Cormoran went for a smoke and Robin started catching up with Ilsa.

Nick came over and slipped his arm around his wife. She was dressed as Elle from Legally Blonde - a smart pink blouse, tight pencil skirt, wavy blonde tendrils framing her face, and a small handbag with a stuffed chihuahua toy and a fluffy pen poking out. 

Robin took the opportunity to compliment Nick on his knitting and ask about his work.

When the conversation paused, Ilsa suddenly burst out: “Hang on, we three and Cormoran have all come as someone in our profession!”

“Well, Doctor Who isn’t exactly a detective...” pointed out Robin.

“... but he is an international man of mystery, so interplanetary isn’t too much of a leap I suppose.” quipped Nick.

“Let's be honest; he just went for the lowest effort costume didn’t he?” chuckled Robin.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to believe, I would never make such a cynical - yes, yes it was.”

“Scully is always sceptical, I suppose.” Robin smiled. She enjoyed fancy dress parties, mostly for the opportunity to figure out the puzzle of people’s costumes, and everyone knew she enjoyed taking on a persona herself, at least for work.

“So Robin. Has Oggy told you he used to have a poster of the female lead in the X-Files in his room?” Nick dropped the bombshell with a casual tone but his expression was gleeful. 

Ilsa’s mouth dropped open as she stared first at her husband and then Robin.

Nick swigged his beer triumphantly as the two women absorbed this bombshell, Robin’s cheeks colouring and eyes wide.

Before they could respond, Strike returned to join them. He looked suspiciously at the three of them but merely announced:

“Nick mate, I’m off, early start. Ellacott, I can give you a lift if you like.”

“Oh, um, yes, thanks.”

“Alright Oggy” said Nick. “Don’t forget to return her to the right decade!”

“Yeah yeah, hilarious.” Strike muttered, hugging Ilsa with one arm and moving toward the door.

Robin hurriedly gathered her coat and bag and kissed Ilsa quickly on the cheek but shot her a warning glance at the same time.

Nick didn’t see this, and decided to get one more jibe in while he could.

“Oh and Oggy - “

“Yeah?”

“The truth is out there” he winked at Strike.

Ilsa shrieked as Strike threw his hat in the Herberts' direction.


	6. In which costumes and concepts are discussed

“I thought your ride was meant to be bigger on the inside.” Robin quipped, as she got into the passenger seat beside him in his BMW and reached for her seatbelt.

“Not with me in it”, Strike joked. Robin snorted and wrinkled her nose at him. As he stretched his arm behind her headrest to see behind him for reversing out of the space, she noticed his stubbled jaw for the hundredth time and looked forcibly away out of the window.

“So did you think of the Doctor straightaway or did Nick force it on you with his recent knitting obsession?” she asked him, looking out at the passing traffic.

“I initially thought about Mal from Firefly… but I don’t think anyone would get it. And I haven’t got a pretty enough face.”

Robin ignored the suspected compliment fishing. “Firefly… I’ve not seen that.”

“It’s good. Futuristic Wild West sci fi but better than that sounds - Nathan Fillion is an actual space cowboy. I’ll lend you my DVDs.”

Robin nodded. She was wondering whether to address her costume or not. Would it get too close to uncomfortable topics of attraction and objectification, which they had never discussed except by implication? Then again, after his, it was the natural next step to talk about hers, and he had recognised straight away who she was. Surely asking innocently, in the course of conversation, nobody else to tease him, would be better?

“So you watched the X-Files, did you?” she said, quickly, concentrating hard on affecting as casual a tone as she could. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him, that seemed too searching, but neither did she want to miss any subtle reactions. She compromised on facing straight ahead and using her peripheral vision and her hair to gauge his response.

Strike has stiffened slightly, but equally kept his tone neutral.

“Yeah, a bit I s’pose. When I was in the army, in the early days, basic training it would have been, it was one of the few things we managed to catch and a lot of the lads liked to watch it together. Took my mind of everything, my mum and the trial, and ...well it was an alright watch.” he finished self-consciously, glancing quickly at her, wondering what exactly Nick had told her and Ilsa just before he had arrived.

Robin didn’t look like she was completely convinced by the innocence of his explanation.

“Is that all it was? Just a passing fancy?”

He glowered. The jig was up.

“I don’t know why on earth I introduced you to the Herberts”, he grumbled. Robin laughed, and then mock-pouted.

“It’s funny, really, it being this way round.”

“What do you mean?” said Strike, glancing away from the road at her briefly.

“Well, me as Scully. She’s the one who always wants logic and empirical evidence, isn’t she? The proper detective who holds no truck with wacky explanations. "

"It’s just ironic because out of the two of us” (Strike liked that phrase) “I am more inclined to be open to the spooky and out-there than you are - or at least there being something in there. Like with the Bamborough case. So you’re much more Scully than I am. Yet you’re the one dressed as an alien!” Robin chuckled. “Ilsa was wrong - we didn’t come dressed as ourselves - we’ve switched!” 

Strike pulled up at a red light, looking thoughtful.

“I’d prefer to say we complement each other - we balance ourselves out. Maybe… maybe Scully is just what the Doctor needs. And vice versa. We’ve met our match.”

He turned to gaze at her. Robin felt this and her eyes flicked to his.

The moment shimmered around them silently. Not awkward, not exactly expectant, but it was something.

“But I’m not the psychologist here, so maybe I’m wrong”, he continued, breaking eye contact as the light went green and he accelerated off.


	7. In which Cormoran professes a new faith

Robin crept into the office early the next morning, trying to keep quiet while treading on the ancient floorboards so as not to wake Cormoran, no doubt asleep in his flat above. She had just stopped to pick up some paperwork, reading matter for her continued surveillance at the café with the awful tea, but when she entered the inner office she noticed something on her side of the partners’ desk and she turned to take a look.

It was a small packet of crisps adorned with the image of pointy teardrop-shaped alien heads. Space Raiders they were called. Robin remembered her father taking her to the swimming pool each Saturday as a little girl and how she would beg him to buy her a packet afterwards, craving the salty pickled onion taste. 

There was a Post-It note attached, with a sentence in Strike’s characteristic scrawl:

_ I want to believe. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Fun fact: The story about the swimming pool is actually true for me.  
> 2\. These are the crisps I mean: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_Raiders_%28snack_food%29


End file.
